


Only sorens wear socks in the shower

by Nessarin_the_greatish



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Awkward Crush, Awkwardness, How Do I Tag, M/M, Showers, Viren (tdp) is an awkward dad, Viren is trying his best, and right, claudia is laughing, lol i think we good, soren (tdp) is a gay mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-11 14:18:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15974069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nessarin_the_greatish/pseuds/Nessarin_the_greatish
Summary: Soren despised having to recount such an an embarrassing, pitiful tale. But he was going to anyway. Because after such an experience, if you don't share it with others, then pray tell, what is even the point?-Or rather, Soren ft. Socks in the shower, ft. Marcos | GONE WRONG GONE SEXUAL [NOT CLICKBAIT!!!!!!!]





	Only sorens wear socks in the shower

**Author's Note:**

> the title is like, a pun....  
> GET IT?????  
> sjfklgahlkjfalkja  
> hope you enjoy :)

Nope, today was not his day, Soren decided with utter certainty as he shifted uncomfortably beneath the wet tiles, a towel wrapped securely around his waist.

When he first slipped, despite feeling his ankle protest, Soren immediately made a move to stand up.

Big mistake. His sprained ankle, paired with the soft woolly material of his socks and the slippery flooring resulted in another clumsy fall. He may have sprained his other ankle too. 

The thing was, Soren was prideful, to the point where a better fitted word usually came to mind: stubborn. But whatever you wanted to call it, that was who he was. Because of both his strength and weakness of a trait (though he much preferred to disregard the negative), Soren found himself lying on the lukewarm, watery tiles for almost an hour.

Gradually, he relaxed his tired muscles against the bathroom floor, lying down, eyes closed and accepted death.

The End.

 

(OK he's totally joking. There's no way  _ in hell _ he would die such a shameful death. On with the story!)

 

-

 

Soren thought back to nearly 45 minutes ago, which seemed like a mere age away. After an especially hard day of training he decided it would be beneficial to treat himself to a long, long,  _ lonngggg _ shower, and so, taking extra care because of his aching feet, he slipped his new shower socks on: a blinding neon yellow, with a deeper yellow, almost gold, dotted across the fabric, taking the form of little swords. 

He had been saving them for a special occasion, and feeling this beat down was certainly rare.  _ They’re perfect _ , Soren had thought as he admired them on his feet, wiggling his toes before huffing out a sigh of contentment and standing up. With a robe on, tied up loosely, and a towel slung over his shoulder, he began to make his way to the bathroom.

“Soren, I’m going out!” A voice called out, and Soren snapped his head around to find Claudia at the far end of the hall. He raised his hand up in recognition, giving her a small wave.

“Come back safely I guess-” he made to turn round towards the shower, but another thought struck him, so over his shoulder he added- “And make sure not to die out there.” His tone had a humorous edge to it, and he wore his usual smirk.

Claudia scoffed, her gaze shifting down to his covered feet. “Take care not to die in the shower, idiot-”

“Clauds, I’m not going to slip and break my ankles or something. I’m a big boy, chill.”

_ Oh, the irony. _

 

-

 

Soren had just grabbed his towel and wrapped it around his waist, when he saw it. A spider, crawling ever closer. Letting out the most undignified screech (one he had barely realised he was capable of) Soren panicked and threw an old, grimy bar of soap. Apparently, he had underestimated the spider, because it was in fact a _ flying spider _ , and rose up, hurling itself towards his face with no mercy. 

At that moment, he felt all his limbs lunge into frenzied action, refusing to listen to his brain, offering logic and tranquillity. Nope, none of that,  _ simply get the hell out of my bathroom you spawn of satan, please don’t crawl into my eyes. _

Nothing happened in slow motion next. It was just all very fast and wet and painful. Stumbling forward, back bent like a failed attempt at competitive limbo, in a futile attempt to avoid the demon. Knocking the bar of soap with his foot, enabling the already slick surface become ever more slippery. And finally, coming crashing down awkwardly, twisting his ankle in the process (which, mind you, had already been under much strain that day with all the intense training).

_ Heh. Claudia was right for once. _

 

-

 

It was when Soren had begun to accept his seemingly inevitable death, that the all too familiar sound of heavy doors opening echoed beyond the walls of the bathroom. That meant that someone, most likely Claudia, must be home! He silently rejoiced, before propping himself up on his elbows, and then wondering how he would go about asking for whoever was there to help. Soren was a prideful man, after all. But it was either he lost his pride, or lost his life. 

He briefly considered the latter. Though he diminished the thought quickly when he saw the flying spider hadn’t scuttled up and out of the window yet.

“HEY, ANYONE THERE?” 

Footsteps clattered against the ancient floorboards, getting closer.

“Clauds? Is that you? OK, so you were sort of right, which I really hate to say, but I'm going to say it because I need your help -- ‘cos I sort of--”

“Soren?” The voice certainly wasn't Claudia’s, it was deeper, a guy’s voice, etched with concern and confusion. 

At that moment, Soren realised who the voice belonged to, and his whole body flared up, a blush creeping up his neck, his ears probably dusted in pink.

Because  _ no no no no no, _ this was not a dignifying position to be in as a crownguard, not a good position to be in, in front of Marcos of all people.  _ Marcos _ . The guy who trained alongside him. The guy who he actually  _ really liked _ .

He wished the flying spider would just devour him already. 

“OH...hey, Marcos,” called Soren, a nervous chuckle swallowing up the last syllables of his words. “So...I kinda need your help…”

It sounded like he was pressed up against the door, as he said, ”Um, are you OK Soren?”

Soren laughed, maybe a little too enthusiastically. “Yeah, yeah, I've just, I uh...I've sort of found myself in a little predicament here-”

“What? Just tell me what's happened, you're really worrying me--”

“I slipped. I slipped alright? And I, I can't get up…” 

“You, wait,  _ you,  _ the youngest crownguard in history, who literally fought off five men by himself the other day, has  _ slipped _ in the shower, and  _ cannot _ get up?” Marcos let some sort of exasperated laugh, which earned a grumble in response.

“Shut up! We all make mistakes, even those who are basically perfection, like me, and I've had a rough day, so, so please just come in and help me?”

Soren heard Marcos exhale, before cracking the door open hesitantly, but he didn't step in yet.

“Are you...are you fully clothed?” he tripped over his words awkwardly, and his question was answered promptly with a scoff.

“Marcos, I was in the shower, why would I have clothes on?” As Soren said the words, the situation, and Marcos’ question truly dawned on him, and he too become a spluttering mess. “But like, I'm partially clothed, or towelled, technically, so yeah you're good. I'm not naked.”

Finally, Marcos stepped in the room, the steam immediately  hitting his face, and Soren glanced up at him, a nervous grin on his face as he drawled a totally casual, “Hey.” 

Marcos’ face was flushed, from the stuffy temperature, he figured, and his eyes were closed, despite Soren making it clear he was decent. Decent enough anyway.

“You can open your eyes you know?”

“Uh, yeah--” his eyes fluttered open, and immediately he let out a low chuckle--”Why...why are you wearing socks?”

_ Oh shi-- _

“Doesn't-- It doesn't matter. Just, just help me up.”

Marcos grumbled a response and walked towards Soren, standing over him as if trying to figure out the best way to get him out the bathroom. Just as he was settling an arm around Soren’s waist, he squirmed away from Marcos’ grip, because what was _happening_ _why_ _oh why_ couldn't it have been Claudia here, however much she would tease him.

“What-- what are you doing?” Soren knew, but was doing as much as he could to stall.

“I'm carrying you?” 

“Yeah but, do you have to?” 

“Soren, what do you-- I’m trying to help you, as  _ you _ asked for my help…” Marcos looked defeated, but Soren did not like this any bit more than he did. His dignity was steadily draining away, he could feel it, like he could feel the cold air hit his skin.

“Fine. You may carry me. Just-- just get it over with.” An indignant pout did  _ not _ cross his face, definitely not, because he wasn't that kind of person. Seriously.

Slowly, he was being hauled up, and --  _ and  _ **_wow_ ** _ , Marcos was pretty strong, and his muscles are really _ \-- he snapped those thoughts out his mind when his body seized up in an attempt to warn him, heat rising throughout his body as if to say:  _ oh my God run now and don't look back, this is horrible, this is-- _

“Soren, are you alright? You're burning up.”

If it was even possible, Soren stiffened even more in Marcos’ arms. “Oh my God. Stab me with a sword now, I am never going to live this down, am I?” 

“Calm down, I'm not going to tell anyone.”

“You knowing is already enough humiliation.” At that, Marcos laughed, settling Soren down on his bed with ease. 

Then he took a step back, stood there for a moment, in what some would call a pensive silence. Soren thought it was just really awkward. 

“So…” he started, finally. “if you want you can leave now...don't tell Claudia and all that…”

“Leave you, like this? Ren, I wouldn't dream of it. You need something for your ankles, and you're probably going to catch a cold too...” Something about the comment made Soren want to recoil, curl in on himself and scream. From his tone, dripping with disbelief, to the nickname Marcos had gave him. Damn. Just damn. 

“Uh...I'll-- I think I'm fine--” 

Marcos remained in front of him, scrutinising him perhaps, then seemed to have noticed something and walked over, sitting atop Soren’s bed (he had most definitely stopped working at that point) and pressing a hand to his forehead, and after, falling down to his cheek.

“I... I think you're burning up,” he murmured, words laced with concern.

“Well...maybe it's just because you're really hot.” The steam had most definitely gone to his head, or perhaps the spider had got him after all and he was delirious with pain, Soren would never know. And he tried not to ponder the words he had said much either. 

However cringe inducing and cliché they were, Marcos seemed to fall for them anyway, mumbling something about how “goddamn smooth” he was and closing the infuriating gap between them, replacing it with hungry,  _ wanting _ ,  **_needing_ ** lips. That's how Soren liked to describe it anyway. 

Sadly, however much he liked to describe it that way, it was more like soft, reluctant lips ghosting over his, before the door was practically kicked open, revealing a dishevelled Claudia. 

It quickly turned into a more incredulous, yet smug version though.

“What the--  _ Marcos _ ?” 

Marcos practically leapt away from Soren (rude) and straightened up. “I-- I can explain--”

“God, please don't, let her think that  _ that _ was exactly where this was going--”

“It wasn't?” Claudia arched an eyebrow, still blinking rapidly, trying to blink away this moment, he hoped. 

“Oh-- no no no it  _ totally _ was, like, I'm  _ only _ in a towel and everything so--”

“What?” Marcos cast a glance towards Claudia, then back at Soren. “I know you don't want her to know but--”

“Know  _ what _ ?” It seemed she was losing her patience now as her voice rose.

“We're uh, TOGETHER.”

“Soren slipped in the shower and hurt his ankles.” 

They answered at the same time, words overlapping, but Claudia had great hearing and had no doubt heard it all.  _ Damn it _ Marcos.

Immediately, she laughed, doubling over, a hand clutching her stomach. 

“I told you Soren! Wait wait wait--”  she paused to wipe a tear from her eye--”Are you telling me that Marcos, literally had to carry you out the shower--” giggles filled the room, and Soren wanted nothing more than to let his bed swallow him whole.

Could it get any worse? 

“What is all this giggling about?” 

Apparently, it could. 

Soren’s father, Lord Viren, appeared at the doorway, taking in the scene and then opening his mouth to say something. No words came out. He tried again.

“Soren...uh…” Viren took a breath. “I know that as a young man you may be feeling some sort of strange urges, and that's...OK, though I think it's time we had the talk--”

“Dad!” Soren shouted out, waving a hand out as if to swat the words away. “I'm 18!” Claudia was practically rolling around on the floor at this point. 

“I'll...catch you later Soren.” Marcos was already halfway out the door as Soren called out to him.

“Marcos, wait, let me just-- they'll be gone soon-- just, don't leave!” He was gone. 

“So, Son, when two people love each other very much, they--” 

“Please get out and let me suffer in solitude.”

“We’ll, reschedule I suppose. When you're ready Soren.” 

Soren’s response was no more than a half hearted grunt, head in his hands and fingers rubbing his temples softly. When he looked up, Claudia was still there, giggling to herself, and at the sight Soren nearly growled. 

“Claudia, get out.” 

She threw a grin over her shoulder before she left, and said, “Only morons wear socks in the shower.”

_ Touché _ . But, at least the moron got the guy...right?

 

-

 

Marcos wouldn't look Soren in the eyes for 3 weeks. He burned those pairs of socks.

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I didn't really properly FULLY reread it, so uh sorry for minor mistakes i may fix them soon owo


End file.
